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The above is one of the problems with the Ukraine, from a western viewpoint. The attitude to safety and the value of life is pretty uncompromising.
A few missing paving slabs over here would require a cordon of cones, some flashing lights, armed guards, and maybe some counsellors to hand in case you were traumatised by seeing it. Over there? Darwinism in action. Text while walking and break a leg.
Warning tape around construction blocking your way? Duck under it and continue - nobody really cares. Need to work on the electrics of a sign about twenty feet in the air? Stick a piece of wood under one leg of your ladder and go for it without any sort of protection from people banging into the ladder.
Broken down? The police will work out where best to park with flashing lights to protect you. Well, no, they'll park the other side so any oncoming traffic would hit the person working on the van before hitting them. Digging a hole in a busy road? Just leave your JCB in the way of oncoming traffic and hope it doesn't come back to fill the road too quickly - even if it's a sodding chasm you've just dug that could swallow a small tank. Warning cones are for other countries.
The building next to the one where Johnny and I shared an apartment had a fire escape that made us realise you wouldn't use it unless there really was a fire, and even then you'd consider it for a few minutes first as to the better option. That's when we realised we had no such luxury on our building.
The people have a very interesting attitude. Customer service levels still hearken back to the communist days when you were lucky to be able to get something, let alone afford it. It really is stuck between two eras.
Ah, but there was something missing from the place. We landed on Monday. It took until Thursday for us to see anyone we could consider to be of less than average looks, or significantly more than average weight. We saw no children barring the occasional school group on an outing, no pregnant women, nobody of skin colour other than caucasian (apart from another tourist), and it was a bit Stepford Wifey at this point. There was nobody who didn't look good in their clothes.
That was bizarre. Now, there's the whole biological imperative going on whereby people from a different genetic pool look more attractive as they're going to give resulting children a broader genetic inheritance, but the wierd thing is that the women especially (probably the men as well) looked bloody great in clothes that in the UK would have denoted the bearer as a being of loose and sluttish nature. They carried off skimpy and figure-hugging clothing with grace and style, rather than just doing it for attention. For those of the group with an eye for such things, there was eye candy galore, and there would have been for any ladies present as well I dare say.
Enough for now. I'll try and think on for what I missed.
Rapscallion
A few missing paving slabs over here would require a cordon of cones, some flashing lights, armed guards, and maybe some counsellors to hand in case you were traumatised by seeing it. Over there? Darwinism in action. Text while walking and break a leg.
Warning tape around construction blocking your way? Duck under it and continue - nobody really cares. Need to work on the electrics of a sign about twenty feet in the air? Stick a piece of wood under one leg of your ladder and go for it without any sort of protection from people banging into the ladder.
Broken down? The police will work out where best to park with flashing lights to protect you. Well, no, they'll park the other side so any oncoming traffic would hit the person working on the van before hitting them. Digging a hole in a busy road? Just leave your JCB in the way of oncoming traffic and hope it doesn't come back to fill the road too quickly - even if it's a sodding chasm you've just dug that could swallow a small tank. Warning cones are for other countries.
The building next to the one where Johnny and I shared an apartment had a fire escape that made us realise you wouldn't use it unless there really was a fire, and even then you'd consider it for a few minutes first as to the better option. That's when we realised we had no such luxury on our building.
The people have a very interesting attitude. Customer service levels still hearken back to the communist days when you were lucky to be able to get something, let alone afford it. It really is stuck between two eras.
Ah, but there was something missing from the place. We landed on Monday. It took until Thursday for us to see anyone we could consider to be of less than average looks, or significantly more than average weight. We saw no children barring the occasional school group on an outing, no pregnant women, nobody of skin colour other than caucasian (apart from another tourist), and it was a bit Stepford Wifey at this point. There was nobody who didn't look good in their clothes.
That was bizarre. Now, there's the whole biological imperative going on whereby people from a different genetic pool look more attractive as they're going to give resulting children a broader genetic inheritance, but the wierd thing is that the women especially (probably the men as well) looked bloody great in clothes that in the UK would have denoted the bearer as a being of loose and sluttish nature. They carried off skimpy and figure-hugging clothing with grace and style, rather than just doing it for attention. For those of the group with an eye for such things, there was eye candy galore, and there would have been for any ladies present as well I dare say.
Enough for now. I'll try and think on for what I missed.
Rapscallion
,travel documentaries are fine,but it's always more interesting to hear from regular people who've made the trip.Kinda reminded me of
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